How Far We've Come
by Clara Midwinter
Summary: A companion piece to "Happenstance". Pre-Harmony. Hermione is still being tormented by nightmares and memories of the war, but Harry, her best friend has just the way of making her feel better even if he too still suffers. A fluffy piece that shows there can be light at the end of the tunnel, and though life is hard, it's worth living and flying through.


**A "Happenstance" companion piece prompted by the September Lyric Llama challenge on the Harmony & Co facebook group. Enjoy!**

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"_I'm waking up at the start of the end of the world, but it's feeling just like every other morning before, Now I wonder what my life is going to mean if it's gone." - Matchbox Twenty_

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Harry awoke to her screams once more, his heart tightening in his chest just imagining the horrors she'd been dreaming of. The nightmares had been plaguing her since the Final Battle, and though they'd become less frequent with the passing of months they were stronger than ever in intensity. He couldn't help but think it was his fault, all this trauma and heartache his best friend had to endure. This war had been his, not hers, and yet, Hermione Granger not once had left his side, and now she paid the bitter price. He forced himself out of his bed and slipped on an old cotton shirt, hanging over his chair, crossing the tiny hallway and barging into her dimly lit bedroom. The sun hadn't yet risen, and the muggle alarm clock on her nightstand read a quarter past four.

He watched as she tossed and turned, limbs tangled in the light-pink cotton of her childhood blankets, moaning and whimpering now, salty tears escaping her closed eyes.

"_Hermione…_" He called out to her, but she didn't seem to register it, tangled as she was in the webs of her dreams. Her forehead creased as she whispered a frightening, pleading _No_, at whatever or whomever it was she was seeing. She pulled her knees towards her chest even in her sleep, lying there on the bed in a heartbreaking fetal position.

Harry carefully moved forward and sat on the edge. He outstretched his hand carefully until the tips of his fingers brushed the baby hairs along her forehead. She flinched at first, but as he continued to softly minister his barely-there touches he noticed her breathing become more steady and relaxed, until she let out a deep sigh and her eyes fluttered open. They were the deepest and prettiest shade of brown he'd ever seen, like the dark and shiny waters of a forest lake, specks of gold splattered here and there like autumn leaves on the surface...

"I did it again?" She asked, her voice weak and hoarse, so different from the feisty and slightly-arrogant girl she'd been before all of the horrors of war they had to endure. He nodded, quietly.

"It's over Hermione…" He reminded her, his fingers never leaving her silky curls. "We're both alive and okay, now." She looked into his eyes with utmost attention, almost as if he were professor McGonagall ministering a particularly interesting transfiguration class. "It's all over, we're home now and free…"

"I know, I _know_…" Her voice broke as she spoke, tears pooling again in her eyes. "But where do we go from here?" Harry hadn't an answer to her question, it was something that plagued him as well. What came after surviving such gruesome battles, such months of cold, hunger and sheer desperation? What came after so much loss and heartbreak, so much fear and anguish? Surviving was sometimes almost like being on the receiving end of a dementor's kiss… It was torment, though much calmer, but said calmness was nevertheless no relief.

"Where do we go from here?" He parroted softly, until she saw a flicker of light in his eyes and the corner of his lips turn slightly upwards. "Put something on and we'll find out…" She glanced at the very same alarm clock on the nightstand, half past four now. It was the very end of summer and still dark outside. Hermione hated the thought of disturbing him with her troubles and nightmares, she knew of the guilt he felt, though it wasn't something worth mentioning. Harry was so stubborn she could kill an ant and he'd think it was his fault.

The memories that haunted her every thought and nearly every dream hurt more than anything and it was all a very heavy burden to carry, but she wouldn't change a blasted thing. So, with that in mind, Hermione climbed out of bed fixing her cotton nightgown as it had bunched up at the beginning of her thighs. She noticed the light-blush that crept over his cheeks at the unintentional view. Harry slipped out of her room with the same ease as she slipped on a skirt, a sweater and her well-worn boots that'd been thrown around her room. She didn't bother looking into the mirror, her face, her hair, the angry-red scar on her arm, it would all be dreadful, she was certain.

And then, there he was by the front door of their tiny shared flat, sporting the most mischievous of grins. Harry's dark hair was longer than it had ever been and a stubble began to grow, quite suiting him as he grew into his twenties. If Hermione dared admit it, he looked more handsome than ever. Silly, stupid butterflies fluttered around her belly. Things were getting dangerous between them… And then she noticed the beautifully crafted and recently polished firebolt broom in his hand, and soon it was dread that took over her entire being.

"I've had enough of your flying lessons, Harry…" She warned, nevertheless allowing him to take her by the hand, pulling her gently into the hallway and down the three flights of stairs into the cool breeze of the near-morning. The sun was still yet to show itself and the streets of downtown London were quiet and empty for once.

"How is this worse than your nightmares?" He asked her, in jest, though it definitely struck a bit of a nerve. He positioned himself over his broom and she followed suit, wrapping an arm around his midsection for support. "Ready, curly-top?" He felt her press tighter against him which was a tell-tale sign she was both prepared and terrified. "_Up!_" He commanded and soon for Hermione's sake they were gradually flying up, far too tame for his taste, but this wasn't about him and rather _her_, so he didn't mind.

They flew over the large Fulham park near their home, with the lakes and ponds, over the buildings and Georgian townhomes of their beautiful London. The full moon was still in view, large, ivory-colored and magnificent against the clear and cloudless dark sky that with each minute became a shade closer and closer to lilac. He felt Hermione's heart beat fast from where her chest was glued to his back, her arm still wrapped around him, though less tight now and much more at ease. He reveled in the proximity, in the soothing warmth of her. Hermione was his home...

He increased the speed just a bit, enjoying how the air blew against his hair and as the adrenaline, of the good type for once, coursed through his body reminding him that life was worth living.

"Oh, Harry!" He heard her gasp, but it was the good kind, the marvelled kind. "The river Thames, it's pink and glistening!" He smiled, satisfied as ever for making her feel better, helping her to see even if a tiny bit of the wonders of this world, of their home. They were lost, yes, but being lost didn't need to be so bad, in fact it wasn't half as terrible as long as they were together, flying on this magic broom, the great city of London awaking right before their eyes. He leaned forward, lowering the broom until they nearly touched the water, their reflections cast on the shiny surface.

"See how far we've come, Hermione?" he pointed, towards Westminster Abbey and Big Ben in the horizon not too far. She nodded, hugging him now from behind with both arms, burying her nose into the back of his neck, taking in his scent of wood polish, cinnamon and clean laundry. Thankful for him and thankful for flight, most of all thankful that she could wake up from her nightmares and be perfectly fine with her best friend by her side. And then Harry finally said as they watched the pink, orange and golden rays of the sun color the sky: "Happy Birthday, Hermione, you're twenty now..."

"_I'm twenty…_" She repeated, a bit dumbfounded, but also a little bit giddy at the prospect. She thought of all the adventures they'd been on, the good and the bad. Memories of her childhood and parents flooded her mind. For once she wasn't melancholic at the thought of the parents who didn't remember her, living all the way in Australia without the slightest idea that soon she'd be there to get them back. She was genuinely happy… _How far they had come indeed._ "We should do this more often..." She whispered, pressing her cheek against the back of his shoulder lovingly. She felt rather than heard his laugh, his body vibrating against hers.

"Hermione Granger, brightest witch of her age, savior of the Wizarding World, fearless broomstick flyer…"

"Don't forget 'lover of strawberry cream cake'…" She added with a knowing smile, pity Harry couldn't see all the light and joy in her eyes. Harry groaned dramatically, but of course he would comply.

"I barely slept a wink and you're going to make me bake…" She nodded against his back with a smug grin. "Cocky, much?" She just smiled and smiled until they touched the ground again a half-hour later in a secluded area of the park near their home, headed for the grocery store to buy ingredients, walking hand in hand like the two best friends that they were.


End file.
